


Overtime

by Dusty_Forgotten



Series: Mike Schmidt is Done with Your Shit [1]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Disturbing Themes, Gen, Hallucinations, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:05:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2189316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mike Schmidt is so fucking done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overtime

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone else feel like after you've validly attempted 20/20/20/20, it's not even scary, just a bother?

You don’t know why you’re still working here. The pay is shit- literal shit, you could wipe your ass with these checks- but you’re back, every night, midnight, sit in that chair and wait. You still wait for the phone calls, knowing the guy calling has to be dead.

You’ve got the place memorized, a rhythm to it. Left light, right light, close right door, Camera 1A, Camera 1C, open door, lights. That seems to keep them away. By around three am, Foxy’s leaned out of the curtains, taunting, but you don’t look very closely- can’t spend too much time doing one thing, or Freddy might start moving, or Bonnie might sneak up on you. Chica isn’t much of a problem anymore, at least- she comes from the right, and that door you keep closed a lot to keep Freddy out. The power’s tight, but it lasts. It lasts...

Foxy’s out. You flick the door shut, make your rounds until the banging stops, and open it again. He’s shy. You wonder how a hunk of metal in such disrepair moves so fast. You also wonder when you stopped calling them “it”s.

Four am. Twenty percent power. Er, make that nineteen. It’s going to be close tonight. You check the east hall corner camera- heeeeeeeere’s FREDDY! Doesn’t matter. Keep the door closed when you’re not staring at it, you’ll be fine.

Little after five am. The hallucinations are back- Bonnie, Freddy, the eyes, “IT’S ME!” What the fuck does that even mean!? You flick on the right light, flick the door closed when you see Chica. You stare at each other through the window for a moment before you shut the lights back off, turn your attention to Foxy. He’s out, again, “IT’S ME!” written on his sign as a joke. You’re still not sure if he changes it, or if it’s just your imagination. You snap the door shut, see Chica’s gone, and flick the right door open. Foxy won’t have time for another hit tonight; you turn your eyes away from the right door only long enough to check the left lights. You shut the door on Bonnie, hit the lights once, twice, she’s gone. Four percent power. It can’t be much longer until your shift’s over. You look between the two doors, but don’t check the lights. Three percent. Can’t have more than ten minutes left.

You set the tablet on the floor, lean back in your chair, and check your watch, six minutes, to be exact. You watch the seconds click down as the single bulb goes out. You breathe deep, and wait. Freddy’s being compliant tonight, taking his time. You try to see your watch through the glare, really need to get one that glows in the dark. Bonnie appears, plays her fucking creepy theme song, but you’ve heard it so many times, you find it a comfort, really. It takes forever. Gives you more time- just until your shift rolls over. You glare her in the plastic eye, and try to remember when you stopped being scared of that. The song’s over. The glare off her eyes disappears. You hold up your arm compliantly, feel the gross, decrepit animatronic paw wrap around and drag you quickly along. You try to keep up, or she’ll just drag you, like she did the second night. Pulled your arm out of socket.

You pass Chica, you think, or Freddy, but Freddy’s probably in the office by now. You trip a little, but regain footing, follow swiftly along. You wonder if she’s caught on, if she knows your shift’s over in twenty seconds or less. She’s almost frantic in how quickly she pulls, and you don’t scream. You can hear the clock over the stage ticking down your seconds as she drags you up the stairs.

You plant a foot obstinately in the front of a step as the clock ticks. City power comes on. You watch the costume intently, still not quite sure what the fuck is going on in this place, but the lights are on, and Bonnie’s stopped moving, head doing that freaky glitch thing as she mechanically lets go, and lines up on stage. Chica’s already there, you see by the lights, and Freddy doesn’t spare you a glance as he ambles up on stage and deactivates. You glance at your arm- a smear of fluid and blood- and snatch one of the napkins out of a dispenser on the dining table to wipe it off. You’ll probably have another breakdown about it later. Right now, you just want to go to bed.


End file.
